


Good For Her (The Helpless Remix Remix)

by likeadeuce



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-26 04:25:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7560028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeadeuce/pseuds/likeadeuce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy goes through Cruciamentum, but this time Faith is around to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good For Her (The Helpless Remix Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zulu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zulu/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Walkabout](https://archiveofourown.org/works/938) by [zulu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zulu/pseuds/zulu). 



> Zulu's great story "Walkabout" is a retelling of the Season 3 episode "Helpless," with some key differences. 
> 
> Although, this remix should be readable without either the episode or Zulu's story, most of the dialogue is from Zulu's fic and/or (with modifications and some reshuffling) from the original episode.

When she realized that Faith had left town -- without telling anyone -- again -- Buffy’s first thought was: _Good for her. It’s nice that not everybody has to worry about sticking to a schedule, and training, and going to school, and answering her mom’s well-meaning but awkward questions, and being where she’s supposed to be when she’s supposed to be there. Some people just hitchhike to Santa Cruz on a whim and come back with new tattoos and thrilling stories that don’t quite fit together, and that’s fine for them, that’s so so great. Faith brags about how many vamps she kills in a week, well maybe if she actually had any other responsibilities in her life, she wouldn’t be able to clock so much slaying time and. . ._

The thought that immediately followed this was, _Wow, Buffy. Petty much?_ Could senior year academic pressure (and training, and slaying, and the sort-of-boyfriend she sort of murdered being back from a century in hell) be getting to her so hard that she was reduced to thinking nasty thoughts about somebody who had actually -- mostly -- more often than not -- been a big help? Was Buffy really looking at a high school dropout who had lost her parents and seen her first Watcher murdered, and envying her for being _carefree_? 

And then Buffy thought, _Nasty? REALLY? The absolute worst thing you can come up with to say about somebody is ‘Good for her’, and then you have to spend the rest of the day feeling guilty about it? Fuck that noise._

She kept all these thoughts to herself (especially the last one because “Fuck that noise,” while on some level extremely satisfying, was not a thing Buffy Anne Summers would ever say out loud.)

By the end of the day, she had come around -- mostly -- on the Faith situation. Or, at least, she decided not to let it bother her. Buffy had taken care of Sunnydale's slaying needs by herself before Miss Heavy-on-the-Dark- Red-Lipstick ever showed up. She could do it herself now. Besides. She had a birthday coming up. Her dad was taking her to the Ice Show. Angel being confusing was a lot better than Angel being dead. And slaying was going really really well.

That was before Monday night. When Mom told her -- because Dad apparently couldn’t pick up the phone to tell her himself -- that Dad wasn’t coming to the Ice Show. On Tuesday, her actual birthday, she was late to school, she forgot to study for a civics quiz and it turned out that the names of all (eight? Six? Twelve?) U.S. Supreme Court justices was not the kind of thing you could just guess at. And then there was the little detail where her Slayer strength, dexterity, and apparently common sense completely disappeared on her. There one second, gone the next. Cool. Awesome. Not like she needed any of that to fight vampires. 

And one other thing. 

Faith’s announcement, in the middle of social hour at the Bronze, that slaying always makes a girl hungry and horny was not an easy thing to forget. Buffy had to assume that her friends assumed that she was in denial about the whole thing, or had never wanted to tell them. But honestly, an intense yoga session left her way hungrier than the average round with a vamp, and the other thing -- no, just, really. No.

But suddenly, now that she didn’t have access to her power -- well, right now, she wouldn’t say no to a hot fudge sundae and an orgasm. And not the quick,clumsy, am-I-doing-this-right kind of orgasming she got up to in the shower, or lying in bed (one of the vanishingly few times she managed to lie in bed long enough before she passed out from exhaustion and fell into weird dreams that might be prophecies or might be acid reflux). Not even, honestly, the odd, tingly moment of “Is this what this is? I think this is what this is?” she’d had, mixed in with a hundred other sensations and emotions, the exactly one time she’d been with Angel, before all of that went -- either her pun skills had gone the way of her Slayer strength, or she just liked irony that much -- to hell. 

No, Buffy was pretty sure she was craving the kind of orgasm that only happened when you were with another person, who knew what they were doing and wanted you as much as you wanted them (and why were her hypotheticals suddenly all gender neutrally?) She didn’t need eternal love, she was just really fucking horny. And who was she supposed to talk to about that?

Where was Faith when Buffy needed her, anyway?

Probably Buffy was just exhausted. That had to be it. Giles said it was the flu. (It didn’t feel like the flu). Angel said it didn’t matter because he liked her just the way she was. (Angel had grown up before Mr. Rogers was a thing, so he thought he was being really original and making this stuff up, and he meant it well so she wouldn’t tell him otherwise.) Not that exhaustion had ever taken away her Slayer strength and her aim and sense of balance. That last one wasn’t even a Slayer thing, for Pete’s sake: back at her old school, she was a cheerleader.

Back at Hemery, Buffy used to be on top of the pyramid.

So how was it that tonight, in Sunnydale, after two years of slaying, she was on the ground calling for help? The big vamp had jumped her and taken her coat (what? why?), and while he was running away, his skinny sidekick chased her to a fence which she thought she could vault -- any other day, she could have vaulted it -- but now he had her pressed against it, now she thought _Stupid Buffy, how could you be so weak, so weak and stupid?_ That’s what she thought but what came out of her mouth was, “Help! Please! I need help!” As if her cries mattered, as if anyone was coming. . .

At that moment, a figure flew over the fence and kicked the little vamp in the face. He went flying, and Buffy's first thought was that Angel must have followed her home, even though she told him not to. But the person was too small to be Angel, too tiny and too fast to be anything but a Slayer.

Buffy let a breath out and rested her weight against the fence, saw the fury that was Faith on top of the vamp and thought, _Okay, it’s all right, it’s fine._ Faith had showed up in the nick of time, this was just part of another escapade, another scrape they’d laugh about over cherry Cokes at the Bronze. 

Eveything was fine, so fine that Buffy was laughing. Laughing and laughing and laughing until her sides hurt and air rushed against the walls of her aching throat and bile rose up from her stomach, and she managed to choke it down and that was fine because laughing until you started to throw up was absolutely a thing and so was your eyes getting wet and your throat wheezing and wheezing until you thought you would die, and Giles was right, she must have the flu. . .

A hand pressed against Buffy’s back, and it should have made her flinch, or scream, or curl tighter into a ball. But somehow she knew this hand was a friendly hand, and then Faith was talking into her ear. "Shh, Buffy, it's okay, I got your back, right? Come on, he's gone now, you're okay."

Buffy rolled over and found herself looking straight into Faith’s eyes. She could see the vamp dust clinging to the other Slayer’s skin and she almost had to laugh (cry?) more (again?). Instead, she drew in a rattly breath and was able to say, “There was another one. Bigger.”

“I’ll kill him for you, okay?” Faith said, and she looked so serious that Buffy really was laughing as she replied.

"That's so romantic, Faith."

Now Faith rolled her eyes, and everything between them felt more like it should be. “Yeah, well, I expected roses for saving your ass. Buffy, what’s going on?”

"I don't know," Buffy said, truthfully. As she hobbled forward under Faith’s support, the story started spilling out. “It started two days ago--I just, I got dizzy and then I couldn't fight, and I was throwing knives like a girl, and I'm losing all my strength, and I can't even run, and at school Cordelia had to rescue me--" 

"Queen C came to save the day?" 

Faith raised an eyebrow and Buffy had to slap her arm, which she regretted right away. Her hand felt limp and floppy against Faith’s rock-hard muscle, an unwelcome echo of the empty slap against the guy who’d been harassing Cordelia that afternoon at school. 

"Come on, Buffy, let's try to get you home, okay? Just lean on me."

If she'd expected Faith to mock her weakness, this was almost worse. But Buffy bit back the instinct to argue. There was still a huge vamp on the loose, and this was exactly the kind of support and dependability she had wanted from Faith. (Wasn't it?) “Thank you, Faith,” she said. “Just take me home.”

***  
"I'm coming too," Buffy said. 

“I just got you home,” Faith protested. 

"I don't care, she's my mom.”

When they made it back to the Summers house, they'd found the door swinging open. Buffy’s coat, the one the big vamp stole, lay on the porch. Taped to the door was a Polaroid, showing a picture of a terrified Joyce. On the back of the picture was written an address and one word: “COME.”

The lure was meant for Buffy, of course it was. The vamp either hadn’t counted on Faith to be there, or he just hadn’t counted on Faith. And of course, what Faith was saying was rational. Buffy wasn’t one hundred percent; she wasn’t even sure if she was one percent. And Faith was a Slayer, who (if you believed her stories and right now Buffy needed to believe) took out vampire nests by herself on the regular.

But. It was Mom.

"I hope you're armed," said Faith. "I'm not going to babysit you in there."

Buffy showed Faith a stake and a loaded crossbow. "I never asked you to."

***

Faith drove Joyce’s Jeep, in order to save Buffy’s ankle, which, between adrenaline and necessity was just the right side of functional right now. Also, because, okay, maybe Buffy was still not great at driving. Faith tore around corners and screeched to a stop in front of an old house that was majorly creepy even for Sunnydale. It looked haunted and it smelled like vampire.

Buffy took the door first, to give the vamp what he expected, and save the second Slayer as a surprise.

"Okay, let's look for your mom," Faith said, and Buffy nodded toward the upstairs. She took the steps as steadily as she could. Faith started to follow. Then there was a crash. Something, some huge thing, had gotten hold of Faith. "Go! Find your mom. I'll take this guy."

It was the big vamp. Right where he said he would be, this was the plan, Faith could take him, she had to trust Faith. “Here!” Buffy tossed Faith her stake; she aimed it badly, but Faith leaped to grab it. Then she flipped around and landed on the big vamp’s shoulder. . .

 _She already saved you once,_ Buffy thought. _Trust her. Find mom. Let Faith do her job and find Mom._ She ran-skip- hopped from one room to the other, kicking doors open with her bad foot, crossbow at the ready in case Big Guy had a friend. Every room was empty. No vamps but no mom. Best case scenario, the vamp had stowed Joyce somewhere he could guard in person. Worst case. . .No, there was no worst case. There couldn't be.

Buffy hustled back toward the stairway, where she could hear the sounds of Faith’s struggle with the vamp. Her Slayer senses still worked fine, it seemed, so she could hear his creepy laugh.

"What's so funny, Kralik?" Faith shouted. Trust Faith to learn a vamp’s name and taunt him with it. If the fight went on much longer, she’d been calling him “K”. “What did you do to Buffy to make her so weak?”

 _Weak?!!_

Buffy steadied herself on the landing, tried to get a bead on the vamp with her crossbow while he sparred with Faith.

"Better to ask your Watcher's Council," Kralik said. "The Cruciamentum is their game. You and I and Miss Summers, we are merely pawns. “

 _Wait the whose game is what ???_ Buffy thought. Then: _Stop thinking and shoot!_

Buffy sent a crossbow bolt flying, which -- oooops -- came closer to Faith’s neck than to the vampire’s heart. But it got his attention, and Faith quickly gained the upper hand in the fight. Buffy took aim again, but Faith yelled, "Don't you fucking dare shoot that! You'll take someone's eye out! Probably mine!"

 _Now, hey, that wasn’t totally fair._ She had missed his heart when he was moving, but now he was a better target -- _Trust Faith,_ Buffy reminded herself. _Also, remember how bad your knife throwing was in training yesterday._ She didn’t have a good sense of how much was skill was hers and how much was the Slayer thing. What she could do was stumble into the basement and find Mom, find Mom. . .

And there she was -- in the furnace room, tied to a chair, a gag around her mouth. But she was Mom, whole and solid and very very alive. If Buffy had been at full Slayer strength, she would have had a quip ready. But somehow, she just heard herself saying “Mom Mom Mom” as she pulled the gag loose. 

“Oh Buffy,” said Joyce. “Thank God you’re okay. That man. . .”

“I know,” Buffy said, thinking _Thank God, I’m okay. Thank God, you're okay. Trust Faith._ “We don’t to worry about him. Faith’s taking care of him.” Faith had taken care, she was sure. The knocking upstairs had ceased. She trusted Faith, and Faith had saved the day. Buffy started working on Joyce’s bonds -- futilely because she was panicked. Futilely because she wasn’t a Slayer and had never deserved to be a Slayer and she wasn’t good enough and _God, Summers don’t be stupid and WHAT did Kralik say about the Watcher’s Council?_

Suddenly Faith was in the room. "Here," she said, putting a steady hand on Joyce’s bonds. "Let me get this."

Buffy stepped back. “Faith took care of him," she told her mother. "Faith’s the hero tonight.”

***  
And the night could have ended there. Buffy could have let it. She deserved to let it, didn’t she? To curl up in bed for that long awaited rest, with confidence her mother was safe, and drift into a sleep too exhausted for the most prophetic of Slayer dreams. Then she could deal with everything tomorrow, or the next week, or never.

But Faith wasn’t the type to put off dealing. Once Joyce got settled, Faith made for the door and . . . . _Let her go, Let her go, trust Faith_.

"Faith, where are you going?"

"Still gotta have someone patrol, I guess."

"You are the world's worst liar. You know this, don't you?"

"Fine, then. I'm going to check in with Giles.

"You're going to ask him about what Kralik said. About the Cruciamentum." Faith was about as good at looking innocent as she was at lying. She tried to let her face go blank, and Buffy didn’t have time for that. “My hearing still works fine, Faith. I'm coming, too."

***  
It would have been one thing if Giles were there alone. When the Slayers walked into the library, he looked so thoroughly forlorn, and Buffy had been through so much, she might have just thrown her arms around him. Let Faith play the bad cop if someone had to be a bad cop. 

But there was the other guy, Mr. Tweed Suit Cup-of-Tea. He stepped in front of Giles and looked past Faith as though she weren’t there. "Congratulations, Miss Summers. You failed the Cruciamentum and lived to tell about it. You are the first to do so."

"She failed because I helped her dust that vamp?" Faith demanded. No one had to tell her to be the bad cop, especially to someone who was ignoring her. She ignored him right back, stepping around him and directing her question at Giles. "What the hell is the Cruciamentum?" 

"I am Quentin Travers," Old Tweedy said. "I don't believe I've made your acquaintance yet, Miss--"

Now he had Faith’s attention. "Stop right there," she said. "My Watcher told me about you. And I don't think I need to know any more. I think you'd better start telling me what I want to know, or . . ."

"The Cruciamentum is a test administered to each Slayer when--or, perhaps I should say, if -- she reaches her eighteenth birthday. She is stripped of her powers and locked into a controlled space. . .”

He kept on explaining, but the blood pounded so hard in Buffy’s ears that she could hardly focus. On her birthday, on one of her eternally shitty birthdays, the Council had contrived a way to make it shittier and Giles had known . . .could Giles have known?

Faith was screaming now. "How controlled is your fucking test when the vampire escapes?"

Travers was back to ignoring Faith. He walked toward Buffy and looked down at her. "I understand you're upset..."

"You understand nothing." Buffy's voice felt like it was coming from somewhere else, somewhere out of her control, "You set that monster loose, and he came after my mother."

"You think the test was unfair?" Travers said. As though this were an academic discussion, a debate over technicalities and rules.

But no, goddammit, Buffy's voice wasn't coming from somewhere else. It wasn't out of her control. This was Buffy’s voice and Buffy was goddamn well going to use it. "I think you better leave town,” she said, getting slowly to her feat, “before I get my strength back.”

"We're not in the business of fair, Miss Summers,” said Travers. As if this were on point. As if she had said anything about what was fair. “We're fighting a war."

“And you're trying to kill the people who fight on your side!" Faith had morphed from bad cop to full-on attack dog. "Now get the hell out of our town!"

"There is one last thing," said Travers, who really truly had no idea when it was time for him to quit. “Mr. Giles --”

"The test is done,” Giles said. “We're finished."

"Not quite. Miss Summers failed. You didn't. The Slayer is not the only one who must perform in this situation. You did your part. I've recommended to the Council, and they've agreed, that your responsibilities are now to the second Slayer. Miss Summers is no longer in our employ. You must concentrate your efforts on..." Again he glanced at me. "...the other one. I'd say it is sorely needed."

Giles stood. He was a lot taller than Travers, and at the moment it showed. "I will not stop training Buffy."

"I don't suppose we could enforce the decision. But what you must ask yourself, Mr. Giles, is if she'll allow it. Congratulations again."

Then Travers walked out, right past the two girls, and that was when Faith almost went off. She lunged toward him. Buffy’s Slayer reflexes must have started coming back, or maybe she’d adjusted to her natural ones. Before Faith could move toward Travers, Buffy put a hand on her shoulder. This wasn’t the time to fight, and Travers wasn’t the person to fight with.

The weird thing was how Faith responded to Buffy’s touch. Buffy still didn’t have her strength. Faith could have knocked her over with a flick of her pinkie (metaphorically, that was; probably only metaphorically). But Faith responded to Buffy’s touch, eased back into her pose, and contented herself with saying, not at all under her breath, "Fucking bastard."

"Colorful girl," Travers said. He didn’t even turn around, and then the door swung behind him.

Now Travers was gone, and both Slayers were left staring at Giles. Buffy’s face felt wet, her breath started to come in gasps, and this time she couldn’t even pretend she was laughing.

No one spoke, but Giles reached into his briefcase. He pulled out a case containing a vial and syringe, and held it out for both girls to see. "It's an organic compound. Muscle relaxants, and adrenal suppressors. The effect is temporary. You'll be yourself again in a few days."

Buffy touched it. She had to touch it to make it real. Travers’ presence had made her hope that, somehow, Giles hadn't been involved. That they were all, as Kralik had said in the final battle of his immortality, pawns in some larger game. But putting her hands on the cold hard vial, she couldn’t push the thought away. She looked up at Giles and managed to get her mouth around the question. "You?" 

"In matters of tradition and protocol, I must answer to the Council." 

Buffy’s body started shaking again, but then she felt a touch on her back. Faith’s hand, the warm movement of her fingers. If Faith had done something like this a day ago, six hours ago, Buffy would have twisted away, stared at her, said, “Oh my God, weirdo, can you stop?” Not that Faith would have done that. They had draped over each other dancing at the Bronze, kicked and punched and shoved their bodies together when training, but this. . .It should have been a weird distraction at a moment like this. But somehow Faith’s touch was exactly what she needed. The strength she desperately lacked flowed into her through Faith’s hand, and Buffy could go on.

She could step forward, grab the syringe, and hurl it at Giles’s head.

Of course, her aim still sucked. (She had known it sucked when she threw it towards him...hadn’t she?) The whole vile package shattered against the wall to his left. "You bastard.” She tried to deny the tears on her face, even as she nearly choked on them. “All this time, you saw what it was doing to me. All this time, and you didn't say a word!"

"I wanted to. . .”

"Liar.”

"My role in this was very specific." 

Faith didn’t have the patience for this. "Fuck, Giles, we know what you did. Don't think you can make it better by admitting it now. She trusted you. Shit, I trusted you. God!"

 _Faith trusted Giles?_ Buffy wondered. Deep down under the cynical act? Faith was so angry now, and Buffy didn’t want her to do something they’d all regret. 

So Buffy reached out and caught Faith’s hand. Maybe she could give Faith some of her hard-earned calm, just through touch, the way Faith had transmitted strength to her. 

Giles must have mistaken pacification for acceptance, as he tried to approach the girls. "Buffy, please..."

"If you touch her," Faith said. "I will kill you. And you are not getting anywhere near me on my eighteenth birthday. In fact, stay the hell away from both of us. Until we come looking for you.”

"Yes. Of course. I am deeply sorry..."

Buffy gathered her words for one last dismissal. "You stuck a needle in me. You poisoned me. I am leaving here, with Faith. Do not come after us."

She gripped Faith’s hand, and they walked out of the library together.

***

"Hey, listen,” Buffy said, in the dark school hallway.

“Yeah?” Faith stopped, loosened her grip on Buffy’s hand, and leaned back against a locker. Everything about that lean was so Faith, the way she tried to look hard and tough and no-fucks-given, the way she always did. But her eyes gave her away. She was attentive, on edge, listening without having to be asked. The casual body language was a pose, and now Buffy wondered how much it had always been.

Faith leaned there, waiting, and it took Buffy a moment to realize this was because she had said ‘listen’. The problem was and Buffy had no idea what she had intended to say. So she stepped toward Faith, remembering the connection they had achieved through touch. 

She had no particular intention, except that for some reason she was thinking of Xander, the last time they fought about Angel, demanding, _You just tripped and fell on his lips?_ Which was silly, that wasn’t how it happened, and Xander wasn’t exactly one to talk about bad kissing decisions. But how did kisses get started anyway? She'd had a decent number in her life -- probably a not-below-average number for a girl who just turned eighteen -- and yet she never seemed to be able to recreate the moment of decision. Like every time was a totally new time, and now she was leaning and. . .

And good God, Faith’s lips were soft. The sound that came out of her (throat? mouth? chest?) wasn’t any kind of kissing sound that Buffy had ever heard. Faith’s mouth slid lower, and Buffy realized she had bent her knees, sliding downward. Faith was kissing her back, with energy, and Buffy wasn’t sure her own body was braced for whatever the next step would be. And right then, in the middle of the kiss, she remembered that she had been ready to tell to Faith "Thank you." 

But now, well, ‘Thank you’ would have sounded ridiculous. Not enough, and too much, and just plain the wrong kind of thing to say. Buffy stepped out of the kiss, but as she did, she reached down and took hold of Faith’s hand. “I was going to say ‘Thank you.’” Buffy said. “ Sometimes ‘thank you’ isn't enough.”

Buffy backed away, letting Faith get some distance from the locker. Faith kept those curious, assessing eyes on her, and now there wasn’t any pretense of being casual. They walked silently, holding hands to the entrance of the school. Before they stepped out into the parking lot, Faith stopped, looked hard at Buffy, and said, “Now you listen.” 

Buffy dropped Faith’s hand and became poised instantly, looking for a threat, until Faith laughed. “No, B, I mean. . . Listen.” She stepped forward, raised both hands to take hold of Buffy’s face, and leaned in for a long, hard, not at all tentative kiss. This time, Buffy heard a whimper from her own throat. When they stopped for breath, they stood silently.

"So,” Buffy finally ventured. “What did you want to tell me?" 

"Um...you're welcome?" 

Buffy laughed. “Liar.” Then they both froze for a moment, remembering how she had said the same word to Giles. But this was so different. Everything was so different. Buffy reached out to touch Faith’s arm, and she linked her own through it. “We should get home,” she said. 

“Sure,” Faith said. “Right. Check on Joyce.”

“We’ve been away too long,” Buffy agreed.

“When we get there -- you gonna invite me in?" 

“It’s not like you’re a vampire.”

“Well, not at the moment.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Buffy said. “The last thing I need is another undead love interest.” But the pressure from Faith’s hand reassured her that, right now, the person Buffy was ready to love stood beside her, very much alive.

 _Good for her,_ Buffy thought. _Good for both of us._


End file.
